


The Five Stages of Grief

by circletrapped



Series: Writing Mando S3/Book of Boba Because Favreau and Filoni Aren't Doing It Fast Enough [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Chapter 16, and my anger at gideon, and my desire to be railed by boba fett, and my hatred toward bo katan, and on tumblr i saw somebody use 'grogu djarin', bitch i cried, boba and fennec are mlm/wlw solidarity, feat. your favorite space midwestern wine aunt, i don't know anything about space and at this point i'm too afraid to ask, okay so i updated the character tags, please somebody get din some THERAPY, season 2 finale spoilers, space cussing, this is literally me projecting my sadness about the finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28259067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circletrapped/pseuds/circletrapped
Summary: "He knew better than to sacrifice Grogu’s chance at a better future. As the Jedi had said, he wouldn’t be safe unless he was trained. Grogu needed to learn how to protect himself, even if it meant leaving him with the Jedi."(Takes place immediately after Chapter 16 - SPOILERS AHEAD)After having to give up Grogu, Din Djarin has no idea what to do with himself as he goes through your standard stages of grief. Fortunately, Boba Fett is there to help him through each stage.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Series: Writing Mando S3/Book of Boba Because Favreau and Filoni Aren't Doing It Fast Enough [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150397
Comments: 81
Kudos: 496





	1. All Over Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din has proven that he'd do anything to protect Grogu, even when it hurts him. He has no clue how to cope with his loss, and Boba picks up on the fact that he's gonna be the one who has to fix him.

_It’s not fair._

It really wasn’t. Din Djarin had _just_ been able to hold Grogu in his arms again, only for him to be taken away moments later. Of course, he could have easily refused to give up the Child. Could have used the Darksaber he didn’t even want to take out the Jedi and make Moff Gideon regret ever _thinking_ about Grogu.

But he knew better than to sacrifice Grogu’s chance at a better future. As the Jedi had said, he wouldn’t be safe unless he was trained. Somebody would always want to take the Child’s power for themself. Din was so tired from having to protect the kid from _one_ Imperial jackass. The thought of having to fend off any more was exhausting in and of itself. Grogu needed to learn how to protect himself, even if it meant leaving him with the Jedi.

Din intended to keep his promise to see Grogu again. He exchanged means of transmission with the Jedi so that if the Child were ever in danger, Din could come to the rescue.

But now, the Jedi and Grogu were gone and Din stood on the bridge of Gideon’s light cruiser with his helmet on the floor and tears in his eyes. His hands were slightly trembling. He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced over to see Cara, almost as distraught as he was.

“Come on. We gotta meet up with Fett and turn in the Moff,” she said, barely above a whisper. Gideon was laying on the ground unconscious after having gotten Cara’s foot slammed in his face. Din sighed and nodded, leaning down to pick up his helmet. He stared into the visor and caught his eyes in the reflection.

_Do I deserve to put this back on?_

This was the second time he’d broken the Creed for his kid. The first time, the only person who was left alive to remember seeing it was Migs Mayfeld. He had put his helmet on after that, so why would this be different? Because last time he was more or less caught with it off. This time, his removal of it was for the purpose of showing his face to his son. An act of affection rather than purpose. And everyone on the bridge had seen it, too.

Grogu’s small hand brushing his face was the first time somebody had touched it since he was a child. It had taken all he had not to break down and collapse in that moment. He had to be strong for the kid. He had to show him that he was gonna be okay without the little guy.

“Hey,” Cara snapped him out of his thoughts, “it’s okay. You did nothing wrong. Just put it on.”

Din sighed shakily and slowly sank his helmet back over his head. He had removed it for the other half of his clan. To provide comfort and security to Grogu.

_This is the Way._

“How will we move Gideon?” Fennec asked. Cara responded by lifting him onto a chair and using it as leverage to sling him over his shoulder. Fennec raised an eyebrow. “Well damn.”

The group walked to the docking bay in vocal silence, but Din could practically feel everyone’s emotions to the point where it felt like shouting. Fennec seemed relieved to put this behind her. Cara exuded triumph as she hauled the Moff down the halls. Koska obviously wasn’t thrilled to have to deal with Boba Fett again. And Bo-Katan…

She was very pissed.

When Din had been fighting Gideon, the fact that the Darksaber determined the ruler or Mandalore was not crossing his mind in the slightest. His train of thought went more along the lines of…

_I have my child back._

_Dank farrik!_

_Thank the Maker my armor is made of beskar._

_This spear looks thinner when it’s on the verge on melting._

_I did not expect kicking my spear to end well._

_Cara wants him alive. I want him dead, but Cara wants him alive. This might be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done._

Sparing the Moff was no easy task. Pushing the spear through his neck would have been.

Before he could play out his fantasy of making Gideon suffer for taking Grogu, he found himself in the docking bay, looking right at the _Slave I._ Boba Fett was standing at its entrance.

“Where’s the kid?”

Din sighed.

“I reunited him with his kind. A Jedi.”

This caused Boba to stiffen.

“Which Jedi?”

“I don’t know his name-”

“You don’t know his name?!” Bo-Katan shouted, unreasonably angry. Din figured she was probably looking for any excuse to scream at him. “How do you not know his name?”

Din shrugged.

“That was Luke Skywalker,” Cara informed him.

“Dank farrik,” Boba spat, crossing his arms. “I hate that guy.”

“How do you know him?” Din asked.

“I’ve had a run-in with him before. His buddy nearly got me killed. Irresponsible little shit,” Boba complained. Boba’s assessment of Skywalker made Din less secure in his decision to leave Grogu in his hands. Boba turned to Bo Katan. “Did you get what you wanted, Princess?”

Bo-Katan nearly snarled at him.

“No. The Darksaber belongs to him now,” she growled, pointing at Din without even looking at him. Boba immediately doubled over and started wheezing with laughter, having to brace himself by putting his knees on his hands.

“You’re joking!” he cried, his voice ringing with amusement. He lifted his chin to meet Din’s gaze, who lifted the saber and shook his head slowly.

_It wasn’t like I intended to take the claim to the throne of Mandalore from her._

“Well then,” Boba started, strolling over to Din with his arms clasped behind his back. “Looks like I’ll have to start calling _you_ Princess, then.”

At literally any other moment, Boba’s tone might have made Din hot under the armor. But the chronic emptiness from losing his son all over again and not even getting adequate revenge against the Moff was more powerful, so all he could do was stare through Boba.

“Sure.”

\--

“Take _one more step_ and I’m sending those kriffing boots down the vactube!” Boba shouted, causing Din to abruptly cease his pacing. He’d been walking in circles in the cockpit behind Boba rather than spending time in the deck below with the others. Apparently the heavy steps of his beskar boots against the metal floor was getting on Boba’s nerves.

“Sorry.”

“Would you just _sit down?_ You need to relax. When was the last time you slept?”

_That’s a good question._

A question to which Din wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. Ever since Grogu had been taken, he couldn’t close his eyes without recalling the sight of the child being clutched by a dark trooper. Whenever he was tired, he was so plagued with nightmares that he hardly considered his periods of unconsciousness “sleep.”

Before he could come up with a good answer, Boba’s hand was clasped around the top edge of Din’s chest plate and he was being shoved into the chair beside the pilot’s seat.

“You don’t have to sleep, but you _do_ have to stop annoying me. Got it?”

Din hummed in acknowledgement, but his displeasure was apparent. He had been perfectly occupied with his pacing. How many steps before he turned around, how the noise and feeling of his footsteps differed when he put more or less weight into them, how far his legs could stretch. There wasn’t a lot he could do to distract himself just sitting in a chair. Nothing else he could think about.

So he looked at Boba. Not a bad sight at all. His helmet was off, so there was a lot to take in.

_Good._

The scars across the right side of Boba’s face were definitely his most prominent feature. They didn’t necessarily take away from the man’s attractiveness, but they were certainly interesting. If Din didn’t know any better, he might have asked how he got them. But he knew better than anyone how annoying intrusive questions about one’s face were.

Boba’s light brown eyes were absolutely piercing. The way his nose had a slight wrinkle. How his lips formed a deep scowl.

“What did I say about annoying me?”

The words nearly made Din jump out of his skin as he realized he had been inadvertently looking directly at Boba. His stupid helmet never let him see in his peripheral, so he’d had no choice but to stare straight-on. He quickly moved his head away, only for it to be pulled back to face Boba once again.

“I asked you a question, Princess.”

“D-Don’t call me that,” Din muttered, not at all convincing either of them that being called that didn’t him feel a lot of very confusing feelings. A smirk replaced Boba’s frown as he clicked his tongue.

“Wrong answer.”

“I was just- I needed a distraction.”

“You _need_ to get some rest. Let your brain process everything for once. You won’t survive if you just keep going.”

Din slumped back in his seat. He knew that Boba was right, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that accompanied the thought of sleep. Of nightmares.

“I’m not gonna get comfortable in this armor.”

“Then take it off.”

A huff of laughter escaped Din’s lips before he could even think about it. He didn’t plan on leaving the cockpit, let alone leave himself vulnerable without his armor. Boba didn’t seem pleased with the response.

_“Take. It. Off.”_

The sudden shift from suggestion to demand made Din’s stomach tighten.

“It’s not like I’d be able to sleep upright in this seat, either.”

Boba sighed, more like a deep growl, and pressed some buttons on the helm before quickly standing. He went behind the seats and stretched out his hands, bending two fingers to beckon Din. Din was quick to be thankful that his helmet hid his jaw dropping at the borderline obscene gesture.

“Come with me. _Now._ ”

Din all but leapt to his feet before his mind could catch up with his body. Boba let out a short chuckle that caused a feeling Din could only describe as static in his head.

Din followed Boba down the ladder into the lower decks, where the others were laying asleep, almost in a circle. The only exception was Fennec, who had found herself nuzzled into Cara’s chest. Whether this was intentional, Din couldn’t tell.

“I thought you Mandalorians weren’t allowed to put your helmets back on after removing them.”

Moff Gideon’s voice sent a chill down Din’s spine as he and Boba both froze. When Din turned to look at him, he was relieved to see that his arms and legs were bound and there was a rope that tied him to a support beam around his stomach. He was sitting upward with his knees to his chest.

“When did you wake back up?” Boba sneered.

“After the ladies went to sleep. Seems like the assassin got a little cold. She took refuge in the rebel’s arms. They make a lovely pair.”

“Shut up,” Din growled. “Shut up and give me a reason why I shouldn’t knock you out for good.”

“Would you really want to betray _another_ member of your little team?” Gideon taunted. “First Bo-Katan, now Cara Dune. It’d be a shame, really. I seem to owe her my life, seeing as her vain desire for money led her to demand you take me alive.”

“You’ll regret those words when you’re rotting in a New Republic prison,” Boba spat. “And I’ll make you _beg_ for death if you say another word.”

Gideon gave a short shrug before relaxing against the poll and letting his legs slide back to the floor. Boba rested a hand on the small of Din’s back and continued to guide him past the others. Boba entered some string of numbers into a pad on the wall and a door opened, exposing tightly fit, but cozy quarters. He crossed the threshold while Din stood at the entrance. When Boba turned around, the frown he’d had when he caught Din staring at him returned.

“Why aren’t you following me?”

“I- I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

“Get in there this instant.”

Din obeyed. The last thing he heard before the door closed behind him was an accusatory cooing from Gideon, to which he rolled his eyes. Nothing like that was even going to happen…

_Right?_

Din sighed as he removed the beskar from his body piece by piece. His movements were slow and slightly shaky. The realization that he was undressing in front of someone else kept hitting him like a blaster shot, over and over. He refused to even glance in Boba’s direction. He felt like he’d just combust right there if he did. Eventually, all that remained was his flight suit and helmet.

“You’re not sleeping in that,” Boba quipped, not even looking at Din. “You’ll be okay without it, I promise.”

Din let out a shaky breath and lifted his helmet off his shoulders for the second time that day, a lot less sure this time than he had been mere hours ago. Boba turned his head and Din noticed the small catch in Boba’s breath but decided against mentioning it.

“You’ve been hiding _that_ under beskar this whole time?”

Din felt heat come to his face as his eyes shifted to the floor.

“This is the Way,” he whispered.

“I don’t care about your Way; how could you possibly make the choice not to put that pretty face on display?”

“I try not to be so vain.”

“Nothing vain about knowing how beautiful you are.”

 _“Stop,”_ Din huffed, much harsher than he intended it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Boba wrapped a hand around Din’s bicep and pulled him toward the mattress on the left side of his quarters.

“Very well. Now _sleep,_ ” Boba demanded as he pulled up the blanket and slipped a leg under it. “Next to me. I’ll keep you safe while you rest.”

Din hesitated but joined the other man. He laid stiffly on his side, facing away from Boba. Being showered in compliments was hardly something he was used to, much less prepared for. Not that it didn’t make him feel good, but it made him uncomfortably aware of his vulnerability. Staying hidden was staying safe. But now he was exposed. Seen.

Every ounce of anxiety flooded out of him as Boba’s hand gently rested on his hip.

“Sleep,” he sighed. “I’m not asking you again.”

Din shifted closer to Boba, his back meeting the other man’s chest.

In that moment, he felt more secure in Boba’s arms than he had in any amount of beskar armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm open to constructive criticism but i will cry. but i *will* use it to improve. but i'll also cry. i haven't touched a word doc in seven months, so i know i'm rusty.
> 
> update: this is exactly what is going through boba’s head when din takes off his helmet https://open.spotify.com/track/6gBozXGfPJIn9FSYizd5KQ?si=m1vrXP-RQEizaPhU6xXatg


	2. Denial - Nothing Is Real Outside Your Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din wakes up and doesn't want to think about anything that has happened, only what is.  
> And Boba is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas, ya filthy animals!  
> (and happy hanukkah/kwanzaa/holidays to everyone else!!)  
> ((and happy 2020-is-almost-dead to everyone, everyone!!!))

It had been the most restful sleep Din had gotten in months. No nightmares to fret about. In fact, if he’d had a dream at all, he didn’t remember it.

It was dreadful to have his sleep interrupted by a harsh rapping on the door to Boba’s quarters.

His head popped up from its space on Boba’s chest. Evidently, they had changed positions since he’d dozed off. His left arm was tucked under his body and his right arm was draped across Boba’s chest. Boba was sleeping on his back with his arms held behind his head.

Din made a small whine as he stirred. Boba threaded a hand through Din’s hair and gently guided it back to his chest. The loud knocking continued.

_“Hey, Fett! Mando’s missing.”_

It was Fennec. Boba’s hand went from Din’s hair to over his ear to block his hearing.

“Yeah, I know where he is!” he shouted. Din found himself thankful for the muffled noise. He did not want to deal with shouting when he was so tired. “Now leave us alone!” He could feel Boba’s hand flinch after the word _us_.

_“Woah, woah, woah!”_

“Fennec you stay-”

Boba’s demand was cut short by the hissing and creaking of the door opening. Before he could comprehend what was going on, Din was blinded by the covers being yanked above his head. His heart was pounding as he knew that the action wasn’t to hide _him,_ but his face. His first instinct was to shout _it’s not what it looks like!_ but that would have been even more incriminating than their current position by itself.

“Well, well, well,” she chided. Din opted to bury his face deep into Boba’s chest to hide his obvious embarrassment, despite already being hidden. “So how long has _this_ been going on?”

“You shut up,” Boba hissed, tightening his grip on Din’s head. “This was the only way I could get him to actually sleep.”

“Right,” Fennec almost sang, stretching out the vowel much longer than Din thought necessary. “ _That’s_ why you two are nice and cozy together.”

“And how was your night with Dune?”

Fennec’s smirk vanished and her shoulders straightened.

“That was- It was an accident,” she stumbled. Din could feel the rumbling of Boba’s chest as he chuckled at her.

“Right,” Boba parroted back to her in the same tone. “Now, did you actually need me for something, or did you just come in here to harass me? You woke the little one.”

“The little one?!” Din protested, now struggling against Boba’s grip, which remained firm on his head. Boba gently shushed him and Din stilled, coming to terms with the fact that the somewhat demeaning honoraries were strangely comforting. Like he was being cared for the first time since he was a child. And certainly not because whenever they were spoken, they made his brain short-circuit.

“Just looking for Mando, but looks like we found him,” Fennec answered. “Still about a day to get to the planet. Better keep yourselves occupied.” Din couldn’t see her face, but he could _hear_ the wink that followed. He heard her footsteps retreat and the door slam shut behind her.

Boba groaned and shifted to sit up, leaving Din without anything but the mattress to rest his head on. He let out a discontented sigh. His head remained under the covers.

“I’m still tired,” he whined. “I wanna go back to sleep.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Boba dismissed, swinging a leg over Din to climb over him so he could leave the bed. This caused the blanket to slip off of Din’s face. Din clutched at the fabric of Boba’s undershirt as he tried to get up, causing Boba to have to steady himself with his hands on either side of Din’s head. Din’s eyes went wide at the compromising position, heat rising to his face as he imagined being caught by Fennec like _this_.

“Stay,” Din pleaded, eliciting a smirk from Boba that was peculiarly paired with soft eyes of adoration. “I’m safe with you here.”

“Safe from what? There’s nothing to threaten you outside this door.”

_Safe from my thoughts._

Declining to respond, Din wrapped his arms around Boba’s neck and tried to pull him to his chest, but Boba didn’t budge.

“Now, sweetheart-”

Without thinking, Din sucked in a sharp breath. Boba raised a brow.

“I-”

Boba interrupted him with a suggestive hum. Din was utterly humiliated at this point.

“I- have a name, you know. It’s Din.”

“Din,” Boba repeated, then a genuine smile formed on his lips. “That flows rather nicely.”

“Sounds perfect coming from your mouth.”

Din could feel his soul leaving his body. _I have_ got _to stop speaking before I think._

“Don’t think for a moment that your flattery has gotten yourself out of the little nicknames I have for you, Din.” Boba finally left his position above Din and sat with his legs dangling off the edge of the mattress. “I need to get myself cleaned up. You do, too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you slept in the same flight suit you fought in last night and that’s the only time I’m letting you get away with it.”

Boba stood and reached out a hand. Din took it, quickly being pulled to his feet. Boba opened the door and stuck his head out. When he led Din out of the room, he saw that there was nobody on the lower decks. The two of them were alone.

A tired fog consumed Din’s head as he was led into a small cubicle with a bar for towels, a bench, and an opaque door that separated the shower from the rest of the room. There was a small divet in the wall that housed a bottle of soap and a rag. He was hardly paying attention to Boba’s instructions on how to operate the shower, which operated with real water rather than being a sonic shower like the _Razor Crest_ had had.

“Do you understand?”

Din nodded, lying.

“Alright I’ll wait outside for you. The water doesn’t stay particularly warm for too long, so I’d rather switch out as soon as possible that have to wait for it to heat up again.”

\--

Luckily, the mechanics were pretty intuitive. There was a handle and a slider for temperature. Din was no stranger to cold water, and it felt better than being blasted with particles. When he opened the shower door, he noticed a pile of clothes that were not his. Beside it was his helmet. It looked like the scorch marks had been scrubbed away. By whom, Din had a sneaking suspicion. When Din had walked back in the main room of the lower deck, Boba said nothing as he kicked himself off the wall on which he’d been leaning and walked past Din to take his place.

Being in clothing that wasn’t meant to be under his armor for once was kind of nice. Din was wearing Boba’s clothes, but sizing wasn’t much of an issue considering that Din only had two inches on the other man’s height. The shirt was a soft material that gently hugged his torso. The trousers weren’t tight, but they were certainly… flattering. They left Din wondering if the choice was intentional, given how Boba had taken to admiring him so much.

The helmet felt unnecessarily heavy on his shoulders, and he thought of removing it again. He wasn’t planning on interacting with anybody but Boba, so why bother even keeping it on?

As if on cue, Cara crossed the deck and caught Din in her eyeline.

“Hey, Mando,” she greeted, a small smile on her face. “We locked Gideon in the vactube room, but now I have to use it. You wanna see me drag him out?”

Din tilted his head.

“How long has he been in there?”

“Since he woke us up this morning by incessantly bitching about needing to use it. Don’t worry, we left some nutrition bars and water in there with him. He should be fine.”

The next thing he knew, Gideon was standing outside the door to the vactube, hands bound in front of him. His eyes screamed fury.

“Watch him, will you?” Cara instructed.

“Yeah.”

The two of them stood in a very thick and uncomfortable silence. Din opted against initiating small talk. Gideon was planning the opposite.

“Did you sleep in that?”

_I’m not answering him._

“Couldn’t be comfortable.”

_I wish he’d shut up._

“Are Mandalorians allowed to see each other?”

_Enough with these intrusive questions already._

“Is that why you slept with the other one?”

_I’m so close to shoving him into space._

“Why bother if they’ve all seen you already?”

“How did you know I took it off on the bridge?” Din finally snapped, immediately regretting indulging the Moff. He just wanted that asshole to shut up. “And why won’t you stop bringing it up? You were unconscious.”

“Hm, not immediately,” Gideon trilled, obviously pleased that he had gotten under the Mandalorian’s skin. “I was just incapacitated at first, and I only saw your helmet on the floor before finally passing out. I keep asking because I was the only one who didn’t see it. You already broke your Creed so many times, why not another? I wonder what you look like under-”

He was interrupted by Boba’s fist hitting him square in the jaw. Din hadn’t even heard Boba leave the shower room over the sound of blood rushing through his ears. Din realized he was staring at Boba with abhorrent attention when he caught a bead of water rolling down Boba’s neck. He quickly looked back at Gideon, whose bottom lip had begun to leak blood.

“Shut your damn mouth,” Boba warned to Gideon, “or I’ll cut out your tongue.”

Even though it wasn’t directed towards him, the threat sent a chill down Din’s spine. It was clear to him that Boba understood his vulnerability extended to nobody else.

“Protective, aren’t you?” Gideon taunted. Boba raised his fist again.

“I’m only going to tell you one more time – _shut your mouth_.”

Rather than responding with words, Gideon turned to Din and spat in his direction. As Boba began to charge, Din wrapped his arms around his chest to hold him back.

“Stop it!” Din shouted. Boba put up a fight in his arms but was unable to go forward any further.

“Let go of me now! Let me kill this bastard!”

The door to the vactube opened and Cara grabbed Gideon by the back of his shirt collar and all but threw him across the room, causing him to collapse onto the floor. She pointed a finger up at Boba’s face.

“Don’t kill my prisoner,” she threatened.

“Silence him!” Boba demanded. “I don’t want him to utter another word while he’s on _my_ ship! It’ll work out in his favor, since he’s closer to killing himself with everything that comes out of his kriffing mouth!”

Cara walked to a storage crate and retrieved her pack, pulling out a strip of fabric that was meant for medical purposes.

“You’re not actuall- _mmph!_ ”

Cara snorted as she continued with the gag. Din, realizing he was still holding Boba, let him go with a clear of his throat.

“It’s okay,” Din muttered. “I’ve been through worse with him.”

Boba sighed. “He has no right to be asking you those questions.”

“He’s not the first one who’s done it.”

Boba stiffened at the words, sighed, and walked away without speaking. Din looked over to Cara, who now had an obnoxious grin.

“You know, Fett might’a had a point with this,” she chuckled. “Gideon was starting to get on my nerves, too. What’d he even say?”

“Just insulted us about the Mandalorian Creed,” Din simplified, not entirely having comprehended the events himself. “Don’t know why it got under Fett’s skin so much.”

“But he doesn’t even- ah, whatever,” Cara conceded. She placed her pack back into the crate and walked back up the ladder to the cockpit, tapping Din’s shoulder as she passed. He followed her up to the ladder, his sight meeting the visor of Boba’s helmet as his head popped up into the room.

 _“Stop coming up here!”_ Boba shouted, his temper obviously still flaring. “There’s not enough room for all of you and I’m sick of you gathering here. Everyone out!”

Din began descending down the ladder.

“Not you, Princess.”

Boba's tone was much more calm as he addressed Din. Fennec snickered at the name. Bo-Katan let out a displeased grunt. Din once again climbed upward and awkwardly stood.

_It really is crowded with all of us up here._

“The rest of you, out. _Now._ ”

When the rest of the group was down in the lower deck, Din could hear all of their laughter ringing through the room. He assumed they were amused at the sight of Moff Gideon in a gag.

Boba patted the seat next to him and Din sat. Boba reached down and grabbed a bottle of a deep green liquid. By the look of the glasses that followed, he figured that it must have been some sort of alcohol.

“What is that?”

Boba shrugged and he poured the drink into the glasses, not looking up.

“It’s green.”

“And what’s it for?”

“An apology.”

Din blinked from behind his helmet as he was handed a glass. It smelled like fuel.

“For what?”

“For reacting the way I did when you showed me your face.”

“It’s not like you said anything insulting.”

“You know what I mean.”

The silence that followed was deafening. It was probably a few minutes before Din was able to speak up again.

“You know I wouldn’t have taken it off if I didn’t trust you.”

Boba let out a harsh sigh. He let out a noise as if to say something but quickly stopped. He lifted his helmet and set it on the con in front of him. Din watched in an almost awe-like manner as Boba tilted his head back and emptied the entirety of the glass’ contents into his mouth at once. His eyes screwed shut and he gave a small cough before sighing once again.

“Why me?” His voice was strained.

“What do you mean?”

“What is it about me that makes you trust me? It’s not like you’ve known me for long. I haven’t saved your life. So… why me?”

Din couldn’t adequately articulate his sudden bond with Boba to himself, much less to another person, and even much less to _Boba._

“I guess,” Din began, speaking so quietly that he wasn’t entirely sure if the modulator in his helmet was even able to pick up his voice, “I guess because you actually gave a shit about me taking care of myself. Everyone on board wants to go home and forget any of this happened. They see me as the one who roped all of them into my problems. But you made sure that I could sleep at night. You made sure nobody who wasn’t given permission to see me wouldn’t. And I guess I just needed to open myself up to someone. And you happened to be the right someone.”

The room was once again uncomfortably silent. Din watched the lights of the stars that passed by through the window. He was hardly used to being so sentimental, but he’d never had a reason to.

“You’ve been through a lot lately,” Boba broke the silence.

“Don’t,” Din interrupted. “I don’t wanna think about that.” He lifted his helmet just above his mouth and brought the drink to his lips, immediately spewing it back out the moment it rolled over his tongue.

“A little strong for your taste, eh?”

“What _is_ that stuff?!”

“It’s green,” Boba repeated himself. “You really shouldn’t avoid processing this, though.”

“You got a background in psychiatry or something?” Din snapped, turning his head to face away from Boba. “I don’t want to think about anything if it isn’t…”

He trailed off as soon as his thoughts caught up with his mouth.

“If it isn’t..?” Boba prompted.

“You have to understand how safe I feel with you, Boba.”

_That’s the first time I’ve used his first name, isn’t it?_

“Do you, now? In that case, you’re telling me you don’t wanna think about anything unless it’s-”

“You,” Din finished, the embarrassment creeping up his neck. He removed the helmet fully and set it next to Boba’s. “Humor me for a while longer, would you?”

Boba hummed in affirmation.

“It’s a long way to Tatooine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i received the constructive criticism. it hurt me where my feelings live because as a child i was conditioned to believe that all suggestions are harsh evaluations of my shortcomings, but it was all valid and definitely helped as i wrote this chapter. of course, i'm kinda past the point of no return with some stuff, but i'll fill in plot holes as i go. that's just kinda how i roll.


	3. Anger - Not You, Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din has to face reality, and he doesn't take it too well. He and Boba find they must renegotiate the terms of their agreement.

It took Din two hours to finish the glass of alcohol sip by sip. He found the liquid revolting, but he didn’t want to refuse Boba’s gift or intoxicate the other man further. The faces Din made provided plenty of entertainment to Boba, who had a much more easily accessible sense of humor after having drunk the whole glass of _highly concentrated_ alcohol at once. Even Din was significantly less sparing with his smiles after finishing his glass.

Only desiring each other’s company, they opted to make a meal from stale crackers and hard, chalky cubes formerly known as “candy” before they’d been trapped in a small compartment for several years and lost their flavor. It was more comfortable for them than actually going below and making something real from the stores in the deck.

Having a newfound greed for actual sleep, Din had decided to rest his head in Boba’s lap, using his bunched-up cape as a cushion. He slipped into unconsciousness mere minutes after Boba started idly running his fingers through Din’s hair.

A trilling alarm caused Din to jolt awake, making a startled noise. Boba grunted softly, indicating that he, too, had fallen asleep.

“Mm. ‘S okay, darlin’,” he mumbled, bending his fingers that had remained in Din’s hair for the entirety of their nap to comfort him. He used his other hand to shut off the noise. “Gotta sit up ‘n brace yourself.”

Din groaned but sat upright in his own seat, immediately becoming all too aware of the loss of Boba’s touch. He already missed being lost in the comfort. He turned his whole head to face Boba, still not used to being able to use his peripheral vision. Boba, clearly having seen the movement, mirrored it. A grin broke out on both of their faces.

“Your hair always look like that after it gets wet?”

Din looked up, yielding absolutely nothing. Truth be told, he’d never seen his hair wet. He could count the number of times he showered with water on one hand, and he’d never bothered to look in a mirror afterwards. He rarely looked in the mirror in the first place. Like he’d told Boba, he tried not to be so vain.

“I’ve never seen it wet,” Din admitted. This caused Boba to laugh. “Describe it for me?”

“It’s curly as all hell,” Boba began. “It doesn’t look like it wants to stay down. Usually lies flat, doesn’t it?”

Din nodded.

“It’s cute,” Boba continued, “so it’s a downright shame that you’ve gotta put your helmet back on. Don’t want you to hit your head when we exit lightspeed.”

Din and Boba reached for their helmets at the same time, which led to the slightest brushing of their fingers. Din froze at the contact, his mind going completely blank. As long as Din was still, so was Boba. It took a few seconds before Din finally pulled his helmet toward him to put it on, Boba resuming his movements as well.

With a few switches being flipped, the shift in speed of the ship made the two of them lurch forward. Space was even quieter when they weren’t being hurled through it. But the silence was broken by the sound of four very angry women shouting profanity from below. Boba just chuckled at them.

“Guess I forgot to give them some warning.”

The desert planet of Tatooine was now in full view. It had been a while since Din had been on the planet’s surface. He was almost apprehensive to return. He remained silent as they drew nearer to the sand.

“You might want to get your armor on,” Boba sighed, stretching back in his seat. “Your flight suit should be clean by now.”

“You mean I don’t get to keep these?” Din joked, gesturing to Boba’s clothes on his body.

“Never said that. They look a lot better on you than they do on me.” Boba took in a breath, like he was about to add another comment, but didn’t continue. Din went to the lower deck, toward a machine by the shower room which evidently had the purpose of doing laundry. His flight suit was dry and, thankfully, free of wrinkles. He noticed that the layers of beskar armor were piled on top of the machine.

He changed into his flight suit in the shower room, putting Boba’s clothes back on above them. He exited and began putting on the beskar, piece by piece.

“Strong material, isn’t it?”

Din rolled his eyes so far back in his head that it hurt at the sound of Gideon’s voice.

“What happened to your gag?” he asked.

“He had to eat something,” Bo-Katan muttered before Gideon could respond. It was the first time she had spoken to Din since boarding Boba’s ship. The tension between them could be cut with the very Darksaber she wanted, despite Din not contributing to it at all.

“You’re watching him now?” The small talk made him feel so stupid, but he found himself very uncomfortable with the energy they had created in the deck.

“Yes.” The word was spoken through a tightly clenched jaw. “Koska is eating. Dune’s getting changed. I don’t know where Shand is.”

“I’ll have you know I didn’t enjoy it too much,” Gideon complained. He then said something under his breath that, to Din, sounded suspiciously like _never been on the receiving end._

They eventually touched down in the familiar port of Mos Eisley. Boba climbed down the ladder from the cockpit shortly after. Fennec stormed over to him and punched him in the arm. Boba’s snicker that followed communicated that she was probably the only person in the galaxy who could get away with that.

 _“Stop doing that!”_ she screamed at Boba, who was wheezing with laughter, the roughness of it being accentuated through the modulator of his helmet. It was enough to make Din crack a grin. “It doesn’t get any funnier, asshole!”

“I beg to differ,” Boba chimed. “I find it hilarious.”

After Boba put on his own armor from the confines of his quarters, he opened the door of the ship. A wave of heat from the planet immediately washed over Din, who resented that he wore so many layers all the time.

When Din stepped off the ramp into the sand, the twin suns of Tatooine were blinding. He blinked a few times before his visor corrected its opacity enough for his eyes to stop burning. The first thing he saw was Peli Motto with her arms outstretched.

“If it isn’t my favorite Mandalorian!” she cried, making her way toward Din. “‘Course, you’re the only Mandalorian I know, but the sentiment’s still there.”

“It’s good to see you,” Din greeted her, a small smile behind his helmet. “You’re sure I can stay here for a while?”

Before entering hyperspace after the battle, Din had made arrangements to stay with Peli (for a few days at most) after Boba had made it very clear that he was unwilling to stop in every corner of the galaxy just to drop everyone else back off on their home planet. Bo-Katan and Koska were rendezvousing with another of their clan on Tatooine to return to their home. Din had been fortunate to know a few people on the planet so he could have a few days’ rest before returning to Nevarro with Cara.

As for Moff Gideon, Cara would be met with New Republic officers that had set up shop on Tatooine to turn him over to their custody and collect her reward.

“You haven’t given me a reason to change my mind yet. You’re welcome to stay if you help out with the chores. So, where is he?” Peli asked. Din felt something in his brain fire off, but he wasn’t sure quite what it was.

“Who?”

Peli gave him a look that one would give at a particularly bad joke.

“My favorite little green womp rat!”

Din sighed, the feeling in his mind returning. The mention of Grogu was like salt in a wound. Being faced with reality once again was unpleasant.

_It’s not fair._

“I completed my mission,” Din said, his tone blank. “I reunited him with his kind.”

Before Peli could protest, Cara was walking down the ramp in front of Gideon, whose hands were bound and arms were being braced by Koska and Bo-Katan.

“So _you’re_ the one who tried to hurt the little guy,” Peli spat. Gideon wrinkled his nose but said nothing. “Well, I’ll tell you what, mister. You’re getting what you deserve. You can’t escape the rage of a Mandalorian father!”

“Father?” Gideon repeated to her. He turned to Din and scoffed. “You considered that miserable little creature your son? _That’s_ why you raised so much hell?”

Din could feel his fists clench.

“And now you’ve handed him off to a Jedi with no questions? You’ll tear through my soldiers with so little regard just to hand it off to someone else? Some father you are.”

Din pulled his blaster out of the holster on his hip and pointed it in Gideon’s general direction. He didn’t care if he hit the Moff in the head, chest, leg – just as long as he caused him pain. Before he could pull the trigger, Cara punched his hand with enough force to knock the blaster out of his hand.

“What is it with you kriffing tin-canned _idiots_ trying to murder my prisoner just because he’s being a dick?!” she shouted. “Calm down and let me do my damn job, will you?!”

Din’s brain was swimming in so much fury that he couldn’t move or speak. He stood stiff as the four passed him, Gideon snidely chuckling at him. Peli put a hand on Din’s shoulder.

“Some people,” she huffed. “I think you’re a good dad. And you don’t seem like you have terrible judgement. I’d trust a Jedi with the kid more than that Imperial jerk.”

Despite the genuinely comforting intention of Peli’s words, they only sparked Din’s anger further.

_How did I could trust some random Jedi? Anyone could say they’d give their life for a child and not mean it. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know where he took Grogu or what he’s doing to him._

His thoughts were interrupted by the loud clanking of Boba’s boots on the metal ramp. Fennec silently followed, adjusting a long blaster rifle that was strapped to her back.

“What’s _that_ for?” Peli asked, a shocked expression on her face. Fennec just smirked but didn’t respond.

“Got business to attend to,” Boba answered. He turned to Din and brought his hand up to wrap around his arm. “I hope I’ll see you around, Princess.”

The words slammed into Din’s ears. “What are you talking about?” His tone was harsh as the adrenaline from almost shooting Gideon continued to course through his body. “You’re leaving?”

Boba cocked his head to the side.

“I’ve fulfilled my promise. The kid is safe.”

“You _referred_ to Skywalker as-”

“Those were different circumstances. I’m sure he’ll be a lot more careful with the kid than he was with me.”

“So that’s it? It’s- You’re-”

“What are you going on about? Our deal is over.”

Din could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

“You don’t know that.”

Din’s voice sounded hollow.

“You said you’d _ensure_ Grogu’s safety.”

“Look, I don’t know what you hope to gain by twisting my words, but-”

“And now you’re just _leaving!_ ”

Din knew that he had good intuition. He knew that Skywalker hadn’t set off any alarms in his head. He knew that Grogu’s connection to the Force was strong enough that he would only choose somebody he’d be safe with to take him. There was no doubt in his mind that Grogu was safe.

_So then what am I feeling?_

“If anything happens to him, it’s your fault,” Din finally finished. Boba’s hand fell from Din’s shoulder.

_“Excuse me?”_

“You heard me, Fett.”

“No, what I _heard_ was you trying to blame me for your actions! You need to wake up and realize that there’s danger everywhere! If the kid’s not safe, it’s because he’s living in reality, unlike you!”

Boba motioned for Fennec to follow him. Her face had an awkward expression – her lips were pressed tightly together and her blank gaze rested on nothing in particular. When he turned away from Boba, his eyes fell on Peli, who had a similar look on her face, except for the fact that her brows were knit together and her exposed teeth were clenched together.

“That wasn’t easy to watch,” she mumbled. “What happened to you two?”

_Nothing is safe. Grogu isn’t safe. I’m not safe. I’m not safe. Boba is gone. I’m not safe._

“I need to borrow that speeder bike,” Din simply said. Peli set a hand on her hip.

“I’m not gonna just give-”

Din fished out a few coins from a pouch on his belt and extended them to Peli. He didn’t bother counting how much they amounted to. He didn’t even have a plan for where he’d ride, but it was going to be as far away as he could. She took them hesitantly.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just _talk_ about it?”

“I’m sure.”

Peli gestured to the garage that held the speeder.

“Don’t wreck it.”

Din shortly nodded and swung a leg over it. He started it up and revved the engine, quickly leaving the port. It wasn’t much longer before the town of Mos Eisley disappeared under the horizon behind him.

\--

Din was almost surprised to see buildings approaching his eyes after two hours of idle riding. He wondered for a moment if he had just made a huge circle and was returning to Mos Eisley.

He hadn’t had a destination in mind anyway, so he was probably lucky to come up somewhere where he had lodging. As he got closer, however, he could tell it was a different town. It felt familiar, but he attributed it to the similar architecture.

_I hope there’s a place to stay here._

The twin suns were on the cusp of dipping below the horizons, giving the sky a vibrant mix or orange and pink. The nights on Tatooine were as cold as the days were hot and Din did not want to have nothing but a speeder to sleep on and his cape to keep warm.

As Din began to pass the buildings, he slowed down considerably, taking in his surroundings. Everyone outside stared at him. Some pointed and turned to have hushed conversations. Din sighed quietly, used to the treatment. Mandalorians were few and far between, so Din knew he was bound to stir up something wherever he went.

He laid eyes on a young man who rapidly tapped the shoulder of a man with his back to the Mandalorian to get his attention. When the man turned around and broke into a wide grin, Din suddenly knew exactly where he was.

“Thought I recognized the way the suns shine on that shiny beskar of yours!”

_Mos Pelgo._

“Marshall Vanth.”

Din pulled the speeder to the side of the road and hopped off. He and Vanth walked toward each other, clasping hands when they finally met.

“C’mon, Mando, let me get you somethin’ to drink,” Vanth said in lieu of a greeting. “As a formality, of course. No need to take that off. Your speeder’ll be fine. I give you my word.”

Vanth nodded to the man who’d pointed Din out, who nodded back. Din followed Vanth into the same cantina they’d first met in, memories flooding back. Vanth gestured to a table and Din sat. It was the same table he’d seen Vanth take off his helmet at.

_Boba’s helmet._

“So, what brings you back to Mos Pelgo?” Vanth asked, sliding a glass of spotchka to Din. “I hope you’re not planning to take any more of my clothes.”

Despite himself, Din chuckled.

“As long as you haven’t come into possession of more Mandalorian armor.”

“Can’t say that I have.”

Din looked Vanth up and down. It seemed like he’d taken to wearing a black chest plate and some a pair of badly damaged steel arm braces. Din found himself glad that the Marshall had some protection since he had reclaimed the armor that he’d been wearing when they first met.

“You still lookin’ after that kid, or did you get him back to his kind?”

“The latter,” Din sighed harshly, lifting his helmet above his lips and taking a long drink from the glass. It was a lot less intrusive than the alcohol aboard Boba’s ship. Vanth stared at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“Wasn’t expecting that,” Vanth admitted. “Figured you’d be a little more strict than that.”

“Well, when nothing matters and reality is poison, you learn not to worry about small things so much.”

Vanth inhaled sharply and averted his gaze, taking a sip from his own glass. Din leaned back into his chair and emptied the rest of his glass. Vanth’s brows shot up.

“You’re really goin’ through it right now, aren’t you?”

“You could say that.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“When will people stop asking me that?”

The pair sat in silence for a few minutes. Din was practically seething.

“Might make you feel better.”

“I guarantee it will not.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“What’s there to talk about? I’ve lost my family three times now, and just when I thought I had someone to help me through it this time, I was abandoned!” Din’s loud tone had drawn the eyes of other patrons of the cantina. “Just when I thought I could _rest._ That I might be safe. It’s just _not fair._ ”

Vanth rested a hand on Din’s arm.

“Hey, it’s alright.” His soft, gentle voice contrasted Din’s borderline shouting so starkly that Din was almost startled. “It’s all gonna be alright. If you need somewhere to rest, you can stay with me for the night. You’ve seen how I can fight, you know I can keep you safe. It’s alright.”

Din shook his head.

“No. No, I’m staying in Mos Eisley. I only came here on accident.”

“You sure?”

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. It was just muscle memory.”

“I mean are you sure about going back? The suns are down.” Din looked out the window next to their table. The darkness broken only by a few torches confirmed the fact that sunset had come and gone. “It’s cold and there’s a bandit problem that I’ve been able to keep out of town, but not on the outskirts.”

“I can handle myself.” Din stood and once again shook Vanth’s hand. “Thanks for the drink. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” Vanth laughed, the charming smile Din had seen him make many times once again appearing. “Travel safe.”

Din nodded and left in silence, pausing only to glance once more at Vanth, who gave a wink in his direction, before stepping outside. Vanth had severely understated the cold that awaited him outside. Din decided that he would survive, though, and once again boarded the speeder, nodding at the man who had guarded it. He was now wearing a very warm-looking parka.

Din almost fell off the speeder from how fast he was operating it. The cold was slowly seeping under his beskar armor, giving him more incentive to get back to Mos Eisley as quickly as he could. His violent shivering certainly wasn’t helping him pilot it any better.

Only a little more than an hour had passed before he saw a flash of red light in front of him, blasting sand into his helmet. Despite having more than adequate eye protection, he instinctively shut his eyes and swerved away. The overcorrection caused the speeder to rotate and Din fell off into the sand below. When he opened his eyes again, he saw more red flashes.

_Blaster fire. Bandits._

He reached down to his holster for his blaster but was grasping at nothing. He suddenly remembered the blaster falling onto the sand in front of Peli’s dwelling when Cara had knocked it out of his hand.

“Dank farrik!” Din yelled, knowing that he was surrounded and giving no thought to what his voice would attract.

He leaned up, but a foot to his chest pushed him back into the ground. A face wrapped in fabric and the barrel of a blaster was staring down into his visor. Another bandit yanked off his arm braces, leaving him completely defenseless. The coldness that plagued him had stiffened his joints, so any struggle on his part was absolutely useless.

“Beskar!”

Din heard three distinct voices but suspected that there were more than four people in their vicinity. They were speaking a language he didn’t understand, and with his arms pinned down, he couldn’t activate translation through his helmet.

But their words became obvious despite the language barrier when a hand reached down to lift his helmet. Din tried to whip his head around and kick his legs, but his actions were useless. He felt the freezing wind caress his neck as it became exposed.

He saw a flash of red and felt a thud on the top of his head. Something had knocked his helmet back into place. Another flash of red light, but this time it went through the hand on his helmet. A third one went through the shin on the leg that pinned him down, immediately releasing the pressure on his chest. Din quickly got to his feet, his head ringing as he did so.

_Not my first concussion._

He swung his fist and hit one of the bandits in the mouth. Blaster fire was all around him, hitting both the bandits and his armor. He noticed the bandit that had taken his wrist braces laying face-down in the sand, with the beskar still in his hands. Din quickly slipped them back on and turned around, almost knocking heads with another bandit. He activated the flamethrower to neutralize the bandit, which barely took three seconds.

A still silence accompanied by the howling desert wind followed. Din surveyed his surroundings to see three dead bandits, Peli’s speeder, and a silhouette of armor.

“Din.”

Din would have collapsed into tears right on the sand below him if he hadn’t been caught in Boba’s arms.

“Thank the Maker,” Boba murmured, his armored head resting on Din’s shoulder and gloved hand on the back of his neck. Din sighed, melting into the embrace.

“You made it just in time.”

“Of course. I’ll protect you. As long as you need me, I’ll protect you, I swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i've been alright about writing often so i can update quickly, but that's because i've been in quarantine. updates will probably be slower after this chapter because i'm going back to work soon. i'll try not to keep y'all waiting for too long, though :)  
> thanks for all the love!! <3


	4. Bargaining - Why Did I Put You In This Position?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the relationship between Din and Boba begins to shift toward something more real, Din is forced to evaluate his role in it and second-guesses a lot of his decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck y'all din really be going through it jfc i listened to some all time low while writing this and fucking RAN so yeah it gets a lil emotional you've been warned

Despite being armored in beskar, Din’s brain hadn’t responded overwhelmingly well to being slammed into the ground at high speeds then being shot. He was struggling to stand upright, prompting Boba to take the (miraculously unharmed) speeder from Din and pilot it back to Mos Eisley. Din used all the strength he had to clutch Boba’s waist as tightly as he could to avoid falling off again. Boba had given Din his cape to wrap around his shoulders, but it hardly combated the frigid air as it whipped past them on the speeder.

It felt like an eternity before Mos Eisley came back into view. Peli was standing outside her dwelling, wearing a similar parka to the man in Mos Pelgo. She waved the two of them inside. Din couldn’t walk two paces without stumbling, meaning he had to be braced by Boba the entire way inside.

Peli silently led them to a windowed half-dome with an elevated floor which was littered with quilts and a single pillow. The fireplace a few feet away was on full blast, which was an extremely effective remedy. She touched a hand to Din’s helmet, only for her to pull back quickly.

“Your armor is freezing!” she cried. She made the same contact with Boba’s helmet. “Yours, too! You two need to get that icy stuff off of you and get nice and cozied up in that hole.”

“Don’t worry about me; I’m fine,” Boba muttered, the shivers coming through in his voice. Peli put a hand to her hip.

“Now, excuse my language, but that’s _banthashit._ You were in the same cold as your friend; you’re getting the same treatment. Now get that cold metal off yourself this instant!”

Both Mandalorians began to remove their armor. When Boba removed his helmet, Din froze as he stared. He didn’t know if he could handle removing his helmet again. His illusion of shelter with Boba had been completely shattered, not to mention that he wasn’t willing to show his face to Peli.

“Oh, Maker, he’s completely frozen!” Peli yelled as she took one thick rag in either hand and advanced toward Din.

“No,” Din startled, backing away. “No, it’s staying on.”

“This isn’t a negotiation, young man, you’ll freeze to death if you keep it.”

“Don’t touch it! Peli, _please!”_

“I’m not letting you keep it-”

Boba stepped between the two of them, gently grasping both of Peli’s wrists.

“He said no,” he said, his tone polite but definite. “He’ll be fine with it on, I’ll make sure of it.”

Peli threw her hands up, clearly exasperated.

“Fine, if you want your friend to have an ice cube for a head, that’s none of _my_ business.” She paused, all of a sudden softening her eyes. “I’ll make you two some hot bone broth to warm up.”

Din let out the breath he’d been holding as Peli crossed under an arch to her kitchen. Boba turned to face him.

“Come on, let’s sit,” Boba whispered, gesturing to the nook that Peli had set up.

“Doesn’t look like there’s room for both of us.”

“I’ll let you sit in my lap.”

Rather than processing an appropriate response, Din’s mind began to wander to the implications of the suggestion. The inside of his helmet didn’t feel quite as cold anymore. He felt Boba’s arms embrace him around his torso but was too bashful to look him in the eyes.

“You haven’t passed out on me, have you?”

“Not yet,” Din sighed, amusement threatening to show through. Boba chuckled and drew away, one hand remaining on Din’s hip.

“Come with me.”

Boba sat with his back to the wall, lifting one of the quilts. He spread his legs and patted his thigh, signaling for Din to sit there. Din’s throat went dry at the motion.

_This is ridiculous; he obviously doesn’t mean anything like that. I must’ve hit my head a lot harder than I thought._

As his back hit Boba’s chest, the fit felt absolutely perfect. Just like when they had first shared a bed. Boba went to rest his chin on Din’s shoulder but turned his head as soon as his cheek brushed Din’s helmet.

“Kriff, it really _is_ cold,” he muttered. Din drew in a breath. Boba once again wrapped his arms around Din. “You don’t have to take it off. You’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”

Din leaned forward and grabbed another quilt that was resting at his feet. He tossed it over his head, tilted his face down, and slid off his helmet. He could still feel just a small bit of how cold it was through his gloves. He leaned back against Boba, resting his head in the crook of his neck. He kept his helmet in his lap.

“You’re able to breathe fine under there?”

Din gave an affirmative hum, too tired to form actual words.

“Very good.”

Din felt something gently touch his temple through the blanket but didn’t know what it was. Boba tightened his grip around Din’s chest.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me, now,” he cooed. “You might have a concussion.”

“How did you know where I was? Why did you even come back for me? I acted like such a-”

Boba shushed him, removing one of his hands from Din’s waist to intertwine it with one of Din’s. Din couldn’t bring himself to protest – not that he even wanted to. It was such an unfamiliar sensation. He was relieved they were both still wearing gloves, or his mind might have overloaded.

“Fennec and I took care of our business. I came back here to take my ship to another port. Figured I’d try to talk some more sense into you while I was here, but then that woman – what was her name, again?”

“Peli.”

“Then Peli told me you had taken her speeder bike and didn’t tell her where you were going. Just what direction, and that you might have been heading toward Mos Pelgo, I s’pose since you’ve been there before?”

“I have,” Din confirmed. “That’s where I recovered your armor.”

“That right?”

“It is. Their Marshall had it. Bought it from Jawas. I had to kill a krayt dragon for it.”

Boba clicked his tongue.

“Kriffin’ Jawas.”

Their conversation was interrupted by footsteps that Din figured were Peli’s. They stopped right in front of them.

 _“What_ is happening here?” she asked, concern showing in her tone.

“He doesn’t want to show his face.”

“That a Mandalorian thing? Why aren’t you hiding _your_ face then?”

“We follow different Creeds.”

Din heard some shuffling above the quilt as Boba’s hands left his body. It left him colder than he’d started. A bout of steam and fragrance came under the blanket as he was being handed a wooden bowl of bone broth.

“Thanks.”

He heard Peli’s footsteps start to walk away, then pause.

“I’d suggest taking your gloves off while you eat that,” she said. “Warm your hands up.”

Din nodded, despite his head being hidden by the quilt. He rested the bowl on his lap while he removed his gloves. His fingers were stiff from the cold. When he grasped the bowl again, a pleasant tingling overtook his hands. Bringing the bowl to his lips, he discovered that Peli was an excellent cook. It didn’t last five seconds. The warmth spreading through his chest made him lose all sense of shame, leading him to swallow particularly loudly and utter a soft moan.

“Oh, now _that_ was pretty.”

A shiver shot straight down Din’s spine at Boba’s tone. It was different than anything he’d heard from the man before – more malicious, possessive. Something in it seemed to tell Din that there was nowhere to hide. That he belonged to Boba. His heart started to pound, his breath quickened, and his hands began to shake. He was lucky not to drop the empty bowl.

“Something got you excited, Princess?”

Boba was practically purring into Din’s ear through the quilt. Coldness was no longer an issue as Din’s blood began to run hot at the way he was being spoken down to. He was so used to being stoic and aggressive, demanding authority from anyone he came across. But something about having that authority taken away from him was setting something off within him – particularly below the belt.

Din heard the clattering of what he assumed was Boba’s bowl on the ground beside them. The sudden noise made him flinch.

“We have to be _quiet,_ ” Din hissed. Boba’s arms were once more around him, though they were placed considerably lower than they had been. He chuckled, poison practically dripping from it. A poison that Din found himself already addicted to.

“You don’t have to worry about me. _You,_ on the other hand…” Boba slipped a thumb under Din’s shirt and flight suit, which just so happened to split into a top and bottom half. With the glove off, Din’s brain was consumed with electricity from the skin-to-skin contact, making him let out a small whine. Boba clicked his tongue in a way that Din was _positive_ just to mock him. “Just what I was afraid of.”

Din yanked the quilt off his head, the heat under it becoming too much for him. He looked up into Boba’s eyes, knowing for a fact that he had the most _pitiful_ expression on his face. The smirk that had been on Boba’ s face went deeper. His eyes flicked over every inch of Din’s body.

But all the light in the room quickly became too much for Din’s eyes. He felt pain sear behind his forehead as his eyes shut tight. Boba’s arms left Din’s waist and a hand went to cup Din’s face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Every ounce of threatening energy that had been in Boba’s tone just seconds ago had evaporated. Din opened his eyes, his vision considerably blurrier than it had been. The light was once again assaulting him, so he left them drift closed. Through the pain, Din felt very light pressure between his eyes.

Boba’s lips.

_He just kissed me._

Din threw his arms around Boba’s neck and quickly leaned forward to return the gesture on Boba’s lips – at least, where he thought they were. It quickly became apparent that his mouth was around Boba’s collarbone.

“Easy there, little one,” Boba mumbled and ran his fingers through Din’s hair, gently pulling his head away. “You undoubtedly have a concussion. We shouldn’t do this.”

“I didn’t mean to kiss there, I-”

The remaining words of the sentence went into Boba’s lips rather than the air between them. Din let out a relieved sigh. It wasn’t anything intense – just the two of them pressing their lips together and softly moving them in tandem. It was sweet, slow…

Perfect.

“Aw, you two are real cute, huh?”

Peli’s voice was startling to both of them. Boba shoved Din’s head into his neck to ensure it was hidden.

“I don’t mind. But if you go any further in _my home_ , I’ll castrate both of you.”

\--

When Din woke up, he was laying flat on his back with a damp, cool rag resting over his eyes. He groaned and raised one of his arms, making a grabbing gesture. A calloused hand intertwined with his.

“It’s only me in here.”

_Boba’s voice._

“Did she see?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“You wouldn’t wake up.”

Boba lifted Din’s head up and sat down in the nook, gently resting Din’s head on his leg.

“You mind if I take this off you?” Boba asked, lifting up the corner of the rag.

“Can you keep it on my forehead?”

Din’s head still had a less-than-dull ache, but the coolness of the rag was a very pleasant antidote. As the rag was slipped above his eyes, he noticed that there was almost no light in the room. The windows were covered by dark curtains. The fire had been put out.

“I wasn’t out for too long, was I?”

“No, not too long. Long enough to scare me, though.”

“Scare you?”

“I tried shaking you, yelling your name, I even slapped you, but you wouldn’t wake up. Your face had gone pale. Your heartbeat was slow, I- I almost couldn’t find your pulse. I was scared because I swore that I’d protect you, and… and I thought that I hadn’t lived up to that.”

Din could feel his very soul shatter with the words. The entire planet seemed to crumble around him. A wave of shame overtook him. Tears began to stream down his face, one at a time.

_How could I do this to him?_

“I’m sorry. _Shit,_ I’m so sorry, Boba.”

“Din, I’m just glad you’re al-”

“No, no, you don’t understand! Please, you don’t understand!” Din nearly jumped to fling his arms around Boba’s neck and began to sob into his chest, everything he’d been holding back exploding out of him. “I was using you, I- I- Just so I wouldn’t have to feel anything, I never- I n-never should’ve put-put you in that position! Please, Boba, I’m so, so sorry!”

Boba held Din close, threading a hand through his hair and gently stroking it. He found himself slowly rocking back and forth with Din in his arms as he wept. He didn’t speak until the shaking of Din’s shoulders had gone from violent to an occasional shudder.

“It’s… I forgive you,” Boba whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of Din’s head. “I understand, I do.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Din murmured, once again being overtaken by sobs. _“You don’t owe me a damn thing.”_ He kept repeating the words over and over; it felt like he physically couldn’t stop. Boba didn’t shush him or refute it – just kept silently comforting Din.

“Why did I have to let him go?” Din finally changed his words. “Why couldn’t I just keep Grogu? He doesn’t need training if I can protect him. Why did I think I deserve to just send him off on his own so I could rest? Shit, it’s selfish. I pass him off to the Jedi and ask for you to shield me from the consequences of _my own_ actions?”

“You know that sending Grogu to be trained was the right decision,” Boba said, his tone gentle. “You didn’t just _hand_ him off. You did what was right for him. And of course it hurt you, he was your kid. I can’t fix the heartache, but as long as you need me, I’ll protect you.”

Din finally lifted his head from Boba’s chest and looked up at him with teary eyes. Boba brought a hand to Din’s face and swiped away a tear that had began to roll down Din’s flushed cheek. Din pressed his head to Boba’s – a Mandalorian act of affection he’d never performed. One he’d never felt close enough with someone to perform. Boba grasped Din’s head in both hands and pulled it close, pressing back. The air around them was still. They seemed to be on a separate plane of existence, just the two of them.

_I’ll protect you, too._

The two of them were brought back to reality by a trilling coming from the table by Peli’s front door. Both of them broke contact to look in its direction. A soft blue light could be seen flashing out of a pouch on the table. It had been taken from Din’s belt.

Din stood and opened the pouch, seeing a communication puck flashing blue. He ran his thumb over a dent in it. It was undoubtedly from the previous night’s ambush. He set it on the table and pressed a button to start the transmission.

When the hologram beam went up, most of the left side wouldn’t show. Din figured that the projector had been damaged. What he could see, however was the face of none other than Luke Skywalker.

“Hi there, Mr. Djarin!” his voice rang through the room, a lot less formal than it had been aboard Gideon’s cruiser. “Hope you don’t mind me calling you that; Grogu told me what your name was. Speaking of which…”

Luke bent down and came up holding something that was obstructed by the broken projector. From the few lines that were showing up on the left side of the hologram, Din could see a tiny, three-fingered hand reaching toward him.

_Grogu._

“Someone wants to say hello, too!”

Din could hear Grogu cooing. It sent pain shooting through his heart, but the kind that brought a sad smile to his face. Sentiment.

“This little guy has a lot of power,” Luke continued. “I’m actually really excited to see where it goes with some training. But, _man,_ he seems to miss you a lot. I swear, every parsec of our trip he was talking about you. All the cool stuff you did, like when you fought a bunch of cave spiders! Or that krayt dragon on Tatooine? I grew up there, you know, but I’ve never actually seen- _hey, get that out of your mouth!”_

Din gave a light laugh. Taking care of Grogu involved a lot of telling the kid not to eat stuff he wasn’t supposed to. Luke held up the Mythosaur necklace that Din had let Grogu keep. Din brought a hand to his mouth, not having known Grogu had it with him. Tears once again stung his eyes.

“He won’t stop trying to eat this! I mean, he keeps putting it in his mouth. Is he allowed to do that? I’d definitely appreciate some pointers since you’re his dad and all. That’s the impression I got, at least. If you don’t want me to call you that, I won’t! Yeah, just let me know. Anyway, we’ve got some work to do. Isn’t that right, Grogu? Alright, I hope to hear from you, Mr. Djarin!”

Luke leaned forward and the transmission stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys are all so sweet! i'm kinda sad that i'm almost done writing this because i'm having such a good time with these two.  
> guess i'll have no choice but to write new shenanigans with them *shrug*


	5. Depression - Don't Know What to Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After receiving Luke's message, Din is left with no clue what to say in response. It's as if a piece of him is gone with Grogu. Boba tries to keep Din occupied until he figures it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a fun thought i had before we get started: din is to grogu as hank green is to gen z (ie. "don't eat that!!")

_“Someone wants to say hello, too!”_

Boba had been able to dismantle the puck and remove the signal receiver and memory unit. He wired them to the conn of _Slave I,_ where Din had been sitting and watching Luke’s message on loop for nearly forty minutes now that he could see Grogu’s face.

“You gonna send a message back or just keep watching that?” Boba finally interrupted after having silently been performing maintenance on his ship. Luke’s voice was obviously wearing thin to him. Din sighed, running his hands down his face and slumping back into his seat.

“I don’t even know what I’d say,” he muttered. He’d thought about it a lot, but nothing seemed right. He didn’t know if he should address Luke, Grogu, or both of them? Make one part for Grogu and one for Luke? The indecision made his stomach curl, the only grounding he had the small metal ball – all that remained to him of the _Razor Crest_ and Grogu.

“A list of things the kid’s not supposed to eat?”

Din shrugged and shifted his focus back to the recording.

“That I’ve got my eye on him?”

“Hm.”

“That I’m the strongest man in the galaxy.”

“Good point.”

“That you’re not paying attention to me in the slightest?”

“Grogu could probably tell him that himself.”

“That it’s your greatest wish to _hand me that wrench?”_

“Yeah, that might work.”

 _“Alright,”_ Boba groaned, standing from his crouched position and taking Din’s chin between his thumb and index finger to turn it toward him. “You’re gonna drive yourself crazy with that. Now, _please_ hand me that wrench.”

Din looked over the conn and saw the tool that Boba was referencing, quickly grabbing it and handing it to him. He pushed Boba’s hand off him and turned back to shut off the recording. He looked back to Boba, who had resumed his work.

“What’re you doing down there?” Din asked.

“Wires frayed,” Boba muttered, slamming the side of his fist into a panel under the conn to put it in place. The resulting noise made Din jump. “Happens after a lot of travel. After a while, you learn to fix these things yourself so you don’t waste money paying someone else to do it for you.”

“That’s smart. Anything I can d-”

The sound of _Slave I’s_ door being opened interrupted his offer. Boba drew his blaster and Din grabbed his helmet so fast it hit him in the nose when he pulled it toward him. He gritted his teeth and pulled it on, the pain throbbing throughout his head but the adrenaline from the intruder taking over. His heart pounded as loudly as the footsteps on the ladder. He watched as Boba’s finger slipped over the trigger, ready to pull it at a moment’s notice.

The trapdoor opened and Fennec’s head was against the barrel of Boba’s blaster.

 _“Hey!”_ Fennec shouted. “Get that out of my face, Fett!”

Boba groaned and slipped the blaster back into the holster on his waist. Din sighed with relief and leaned back in his seat. Following Fennec was Cara, who had a grin on her face and a gash on her left brow.

“Guess who got paid!” she bragged.

“What happened to you?” Din asked, concerned about her injury. Cara rolled her eyes.

“Gideon’s a slippery little bastard, is what happened. Even managed to get a good shot at me before we took him down again.”

“But he’s locked up?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s locked up. Fennec patched me up and we’re gonna get some celebratory drinks. You two are coming with us. It’s on me.”

Din sighed and looked to his feet. “I don’t really know if I feel too up to it,” he admitted. The weight of Grogu _actually_ being gone was heavy on his shoulders. The transmission was just confirmation that the Child was far away, somewhere Din couldn’t easily scoop him out of harm’s way.

“Come _on,_ Mando,” Fennec protested. “You’ve been so down in the dumps; you need to relax! The kid is safe, Gideon’s locked up, everything worked out! Getting out of this dingy ship’ll do you some good.”

 _“Watch it.”_ Boba obviously didn’t take too kindly to insults about _Slave I._ “And if he doesn’t want to go, he’s not going to.”

When Din looked back up, he saw Boba standing.

“Are _you_ going?”

He saw Fennec and Cara share a smirk. Boba chuckled.

“Did I change your mind, Princess?”

Din sighed.

“No point in staying here by myself, is there?”

Fennec and Cara went down the ladder, but Boba stayed in place.

“You didn’t give yourself another concussion with that, did you?” he asked. Din chuckled.

“No, but I’m pretty sure my nose is bleeding.”

Boba put his hands on either side of Din’s helmet.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

Boba lifted the helmet to find that Din was right – his nose was bleeding. Boba pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket and gently blotted at Din’s upper lip. Din winced as Boba brushed his nose.

“Not broken, is it?” he asked. Boba gently ran a finger over the bridge of Din’s nose. He shook his head.

“You’re dramatic.” Din smiled, picking up on the playful nature of Boba’s words. “I think I know the perfect treatment.”

Din instinctively closed his eyes as Boba pressed a kiss to the side of his nose.

“All better,” Boba whispered in Din’s ear with an audible smile.

“You two coming or what?!” Cara’s voice carried up into the cockpit.

\--

The lights. The music. The chatter. It was like every piece of stimulus was attacking Din at the same time. It didn’t help that two Mandalorians, a prolific assassin, and a New Republic officer drew lots of eyes and sparked conversation. Many of these conversations were about Boba in particular. Despite his best efforts to shut out the sound around him, he caught the words _dethroned, assassinated, thought that guy was dead._ When Din looked at Boba, all he got in response was a shaking head.

_Don’t worry about it. Got it._

Din and Boba saved a table while Fennec and Cara went to get drinks, refusing to take orders. They insisted on choosing the drinks for the entire group. They seemed to be more than thrilled to finally have time for recreation. Boba took his helmet off and set it on the table in front of him. Din was tempted to mirror the action, but any such thought was doused by the number of eyes that were already staring at him.

“How’s your head?” Boba practically had to shout over the volume of everything else.

“Not terrible,” Din said, leaning close to Boba so he wouldn’t have to yell. “All this isn’t helping, though.”

“If you want to leave, I’ll go with-”

“No, it’s fine. Thanks, though.”

Boba grasped Din’s hand underneath the table.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Boba flashed a grin at Din. It was gentle, reassuring. It was the kind of smile that quickly became the only thing in the cantina that Din could see. Din squeezed Boba’s to tell him that he was returning the smile under his helmet.

Their moment of intimacy was interrupted by the shrill laughter of their comrades. Both Fennec and Cara were holding two tall glasses of a bubbling red liquid that had thick fog rolling over the rims.

“Tell me it’s true,” Fennec managed between bubbling giggles as she set the glasses down. Boba furrowed a brow. Din slightly tilted his head.

“Tell you _what’s_ true?” The clenching of Boba’s jaw and harsh tone of his words led Din to the suspicion that Boba already knew the answer.

“That you got your ass kicked by Luke Skywalker and then fell into a Sarlaac pit!” Cara shrieked, leaning on Fennec for support as laughter overtook her. Boba crossed his arms.

“That is _not_ what-”

“It _that_ why you hate the guy so much?” Fennec laughed.

“Shut _up,_ Fennec! Skywalker did _not_ kick my ass, nor did I _fall_ into that Sarlacc pit! I _fought_ him, and then that Han Solo piece of shit _shoved_ me into the damn thing!”

The pair fell silent for a moment before looking at each other, grinning, then bursting into laughter again. Boba sighed and fell back into his seat, grabbing the drink that had been set in front of him and taking a drink. He scrunched his nose and set the glass back down.

“This isn’t strong enough for me to deal with the two of you,” he groaned. “Don’t forget that I _did_ survive that thing.”

“Glad you did,” Din accidentally thought out loud. Any hope that it had been lost in the noise around him was lost when Fennec and Cara shared an accusatory look at one another. Boba had a poorly concealed grin as he nudged Din with his knee.

“So, what have _you two_ been up to?” Fennec asked, tacking a wink on the end of her question. “I assume you two kissed and made up?”

“I had to fight some bandits off for him. Decided to call it even after that,” Boba said. Din just nodded in response. There was no need to tell them about how they spent the night.

Or how they _almost_ spent it.

_Damn that concussion._

“I got word from Skywalker,” Din spoke up. Fennec and Cara’s grins vanished, being replaced with looks of something adjacent to concern.

“What’d he say? Is everything alright? I’d feel like such a dick if-”

“Everything’s fine,” Din interrupted Cara. “He’s got Grogu. I’ve been meaning to send something back to him, but I just don’t really know what to say. Every time I try to come up with something, it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Mando, listen to me,” Fennec began, “That guy took out an entire army of those dark trooper things and didn’t break a sweat. You’re strong, don’t get me wrong, but that kid is gonna be a _lot_ more protected with Skywalker. Especially since he’s gonna be getting his own powers. You’re protecting him more now than you were before. And that’s a good thing because now you don’t have to worry about him getting hurt while you’re hurling yourself face-first into trouble.”

“Lay off him, Fennec,” Boba warned.

“No, she’s right,” Din said. “I _know_ he’s safer now. I just miss him.”

“Tell him _that!”_ Cara yelled. “I mean, that’s really all you can do now.”

Din put a hand into his pocket and closed his hand around the little silver ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, this chapter was pretty short. ironically, i was too depressed to write for a while when i came to this chapter. but honestly, everything that needed to happen did. just one more chapter and it's all wrapped up! this is certainly not the last of what i have to write for these two, though, trust me :)


	6. Acceptance - I'll See You Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din makes his message to Grogu.

“Hey, little guy.”

Din had already finished his message to Luke. It contained the standard concerned-dad-who-sent-his-son-to-Jedi-training material: Grogu likes to eat eggs, using the Force makes him very sleepy, he will practically become your shadow once he warms up to you. It also included a greeting on Boba’s behalf, a request that had both Boba and Fennec in stitches for reasons unknown to Din.

But now he was crafting his message to the Child.

“I hope you’re safe there. I mean, I _know_ you’re protected, but I need you to be safe, too. Behave yourself. Don’t take any food that your teacher doesn’t give you. I… I, uh, saw that you kept that necklace. I kept this,” Din held up the silver ball. “It’s nice to have a reminder of you around. I mean, it still stings a little, not having you here all the time.

“I miss you, kid. But I’m glad you’re getting trained. And I’m relieved that I don’t have to put you in the same danger I put myself in anymore. I’ll probably be a little more cautious so I can stick around ‘till you’re a master. I wonder how long it’ll take. Probably depends on how good your teacher is. I think he’s gonna be pretty good. Maybe he can teach you how to use a lightsaber like he does.

“Actually, that’s a bad idea. Oh, no, that’s a _really_ bad idea! Don’t tell him that I said that, alright? I don’t want you to hold a lightsaber until… until… maybe until I figure out how to use this Darksaber. Until then, you stay away from lasers and sharp things. Or anything dangerous.

“Alright, kid,” Din sighed, knowing that he couldn’t drag the message on forever or else he’d start crying. “I hope you’ll be alright. I’ll see you again.”

Din shut off the recorder and shut his eyes, letting a tear roll down his cheek. Being separated from his son had taken a major toll on him in the last few days. They had been a whirlwind of emotions, one after the other, never giving him a break. He rolled the ball around in his hand, eventually clutching it as hard as he could to ground himself.

_I promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i really just wrap this up in less than 400 words? yes. yes i did.  
> some people just want to watch the world burn with an anti-climactic ending, and i am one of them.


End file.
